


The Cruelest Way

by ExceedinglyRegular (DrakeRamorayIII)



Series: Flashbacks and Echoes (Main Story) [1]
Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-09 20:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15275490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrakeRamorayIII/pseuds/ExceedinglyRegular
Summary: "Don't go! Please..."That's what he should've said.Andrew's world is falling apart. Steven is leaving for New York, and Andrew doesn't know how to communicate that he will miss Steven... much less that he is in love with him.All Andrew can do is make one bad decision after another, and cry himself to sleep every night until it all comes tumbling down on him.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a longer work but can also read it as a standalone short, if you wish to.

# Prologue

_"Don't go! Please..."_

That's what he should've said.

_Steven stops dead in his tracks and turns around. A look of relief on his face. He lets go of the handle of his suitcase. It clatters loud against the marble tiles of the airport, almost as loud as Steven's footsteps sprinting across the departure hall._

That's how it should've happened.

_The warmth envelopes him as Steven squeezes even tighter, threatening to cave his rib cage in. He puts a hand on the back of his best friend's head. It lingers for far too long but they continue to hold that position. Steven's sweet scent fills his nose, and he squeezes back just as tight. The encounter was beginning to cross the boundaries of platonic._

That's where it should've headed.

_"I was waiting, hoping, praying that you would stop me."_

That's when he should've confessed.

Andrew lies on the floor of his bedroom, his right hand clutching his phone and resting against the bed frame. His left hand on his chest, painfully tracking the rhythm of his own heartbeat.

He feels too tired to cry, but not tired enough to stop torturing himself. He thought of his best friend leaving for New York, leaving the company, leaving him behind... it sent his head spinning.

His phone remains as still and silent as the room. Dread crawls over Andrew as he wonders why Steven isn't questioning why his best friend didn't go to the airport to send him off. He damningly attempts to wipe the thoughts out of his mind but two words remain. The two words that fill him with guilt.

_Best. Friend._

That's who he should've been.

"I love you, Steven."

That's why he should've gone.


	2. Busy Streets

# Chapter 1 - Busy Streets

He should be fired for this.

The scattered sounds of typing and clicking brings a feeling of comfortable familiarity, but it is now soured with a twinge of repressed pain. Andrew takes another sip out of his mug.

This is not okay.

"Where do you want to go for lunch?" A quiet voice floats over. He feels the low heat of a pair of eyes on him. Andrew should've known better than to expect Adam to leave him alone.

"I don't know. Whatever. Your choice." Adam seems somewhat satisfied with the answer and turns back to his work. 

He hates this. Everyone in the office kept offering him some flavor of sympathy. Whether it is the all-knowing and low-key comforting version from Adam, or the well-meaning but hard-hitting type from Quinta... all his colleagues gave him "the Look".

Another swig of his drink.

The words on Andrew's screen starts to perform a little dance number but he continues typing away, determined to finish the report so that he can slink away the rest of the day without work-related consequences.

A productive half-hour later, just as Andrew is starting to wrap up the report, the computer crashes. His hands stop typing and rest twitching on the keyboard, suddenly devoid of purpose.

The man stares blank at the equally blank screen, he takes a deep breath and finally decides not to toss the malfunctioning machine out the office window. Instead, he picks his mug up for another drink.

Empty. Already?

For a brief moment, he reconsiders throwing the computer away. His deskmate shoots him a quizzing look.

"It's fine, Adam. I have enough time to redo it." The bearded man nods in understanding.

Andrew sighs wearily, it has been a pretty bad week. His coworkers have been going easy on him, which somehow only makes him feel worse. They don't even know the whole story and they already treat him like some sort of paper doll... imagine if they did.

Shaking the image out of his head, Andrew grimaces at his empty mug... not that you can tell it is empty with the lid on and all. He wants to get a refill, and a voice at the back of his mind tells him not to.

He doesn't listen.

He grabs his bag and mug, and heads over to the pantry. Nobody is there, just as he hoped. He sets his bag on the counter and gets some ice from the fridge.

"It's not too early for lunch," Adam remarks from the pantry door. The sudden noise made Andrew jump a little, spilling a few ice cubes onto the floor.

"Jesus! You need to stop doing that... thing where you sne- Never mind. Let's eat." Setting aside his mug, Andrew pulls Adam by the arm and tries to force his friend out of the office as quickly as humanly possible.

"...before I change my mind." Adam stops being uncooperative and picks up the pace.

Once outside, Adam gently but firmly shrug out of Andrew's grip, making a noise something resembling annoyance. The busy streets of downtown LA are even more honky today.

"Where are we going?" Andrew doesn't catch Adam's reply, he simply nods at it. "Lead the way, taskmaster." Adam snorts.

The duo make it past a few blocks, with Andrew only a few steps behind. His head is still all wrapped up in Steven-related matters. He has known about his own feelings for a better part of a year by this point.

But for all the time he spent talking himself out of confessing his feelings to his best friend, he never realized that _that_ isn't what he wants. And although the said feelings no longer drown him on a daily basis, they now wreck havoc when they do come around... leaving a sobbing, trembling Andrew in their wake.

Left turn. Right turn.

Steven's leaving makes Andrew even more resolved in keeping his true emotions locked away. Everyone at the office is watching him now, and being in the spotlight means he has to be more careful than ever.

A few droplets of water lands on his neck, and like a true love's kiss on a sleeping princess, it pulls Andrew back out into the real world. Adam suddenly has his head turned, and there are sharp screechy voices all around.

Andrew turns to his left to see the crowd parting like the Red Sea. Except, instead of Moses walking over with his staff to whack some sense into him, it is a bright orange SUV speeding over with no signs of slowing down.

Panic taking over, Andrew wills his body to leap out of the way but he only manages to lift one foot off the ground before he receives a close-up look of the driver.

The whisky was a bad idea.


	3. If I Had Known

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter doubled in word count from the first draft... Didn’t plan on that happening.
> 
> There is a light sprinkle of swearing in this, just sayin’.
> 
> (While I was doing the final proofread of this, Andrew posted a new photo on IG. Cryptic Local Honey™️ got me sidetracked.)

# Chapter 2 - If I Had Known

Embarrassing doesn't begin to describe this.

The sharp searing pain in his right leg argues deftly with the throbbing ache in his left. Andrew lies face down on the floor of his apartment kitchen. This is his fate now, he has become part of the building.

There is no conceivable way out of this, save for a metaphorical hole opening up to swallow him. With his phone in the next room, Andrew silently chides himself for not accepting Adam's offer of delivering dinner to him.

The hospital was only the first circle of hell it seems.

_"Andrew!!" That can't be Adam, his voice isn't that loud. But sure enough, his bearded friend's face has come along to block his view of the cloudy gray sky._

_The "Red Sea" has now closed around him again. Andrew feels like his body is being pulled apart, his mind is drifting as dark spots fills his vision. All he can think about is how he may never see Steven again._

Nothing's changed.

Andrew mentally counts to three and attempt to lift himself off the ground, but only manages to turn to his side. Well, at least this makes it easier to crawl.

Even in the near-pitch darkness, Andrew manages to make his way over to the coffee table without incident. He picks up his phone and checks his notifications.

One missed call from Steven.

He scolds himself again. It _is_ a bit of a relief however, as it's been a week since Andrew tangoed with an SUV and Steven hasn't so much as sent a "get well soon" message. Andrew was beginning to think that he had been forgotten.

A sharp knock on the door leads to an angry groan from Andrew. He is in no shape to get the door, but he has to. He props himself up against the coffee table and shift his weight over to the bookshelf lining the wall.

He stops for a moment to catch his breath, another impatient knock sounds and Andrew mumbles a _"coming"_ to no one. He slides along the wall and towards his front door, opening it without even taking a sneak at the peephole.

Holy shit.

There he is, the golden boy himself. Steven stands in the hallway, beaming with the intensity of a thousand suns. He holds two boxes of pizza in his hands, smile dropping slightly when he sees Andrew.

A mild worry bothers Andrew, slightly concerned that his friend had somehow impossibly managed to knock on the wrong door and isn't actually here to visit him. His flittering heart cries out in minor, and he feels his facial muscles tense up.

"You look awful," Steven remarks. He sets the pizza down on the table right next to the door, rousing the keys from their slumber. They clink in discontent. "Come on."

Steven flicks the lights on and reaches out to hold the other man steady. They shakily stumble to the living room, and Andrew rests down on the couch. Steven makes a face at the state of the place, before jogging over to shut the front door.

All Andrew can do is stare numbly, still in a bit of a shock. He doesn't dare believe that Steven is actually here. In LA. In his apartment. In the flesh.

It's all a little too surreal.

"What's wrong?" Steven asks in concern as he approaches the couch, pizza in tow. And that did it. Andrew gives all he has to not congratulate Steven's stupid cute face with a solid high-five.

"What's wrong?" Andrew repeats. "It's been over a week, you didn't text me, or call me, or come see me in the hospital! Like what _the_ _**fuck**_?!" He is furious, unjustly so — he notes — but still furious.

Two whole weeks of nothing, and Steven acts like he doesn't know what's up. How could he? Are they not as close as Andrew thought? Did his emotions skewer his perspective on their relationship?

Steven is clearly taken aback, not expecting backlash for paying his friend a visit. He at first holds his silence with a confused scowl, but it softens to a "that's a shame" kinda look.

"I only found out last night. Really." Steven explains. "I also did give you a call, you just didn't answer."

For once in his life, Andrew thinks he might have been too sensitive. Steven has his own life to live, his own things to do. Settling down at his new place and new job, it must be exhausting.

"That was five minutes ago." Andrew's anger has subsided substantially. He pauses and reminds himself that his outburst was uncalled for. He sighs. "Sorry."

"No. _I'm_ sorry. You're right, I should've been here earlier." Steven looks like a kicked puppy. That's unfair. "I should've called earlier too."

His voice echoes shallowly throughout the apartment. The tensions builds to uncomfortable levels. Andrew swallows the lump in his throat, this isn't how he imagined their reunion to be like. 

It was supposed to be full of laughter and hugs and I-missed-you's, a happy occasion. But instead, here they are...

Steven stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room, unsure if he should leave or stay, looking like he is going to fall apart from guilt alone. Andrew bites his tongue, he knows the tears will start forming if he spoke.

Ah, fuck it.

"I just missed you a lot, Steven." The words leaving Andrew's lips takes some pain away with them. He forces an apologetic smile to hold the tears back. Immediately, a soft smile finds its way onto Steven's face. "What?"

Steven shakes his head. "I know. It must've been hard on you." He drops onto the couch ungracefully, the shockwave knocking empty cans off nearby furniture. "You didn't even send me off." He huffs, crossing his arms like a spoilt kid.

Andrew feels a gnawing pain in his chest. He imagines Steven frantically looking around the airport, upset and confused. The tears he so resolutely pushed back earlier are threatening to escape again.

This is why he didn't go to the airport.

_The hospital room is too bright. The smell of disinfectant too strong. And Adam's voice too loud._

_"You could have been fired." Andrew stirs in place, the situation as uncomfortable as the bed. Adam is right of course, but he doesn't care. "You are lucky I was the one who found it first... I cleaned it out, by the way."_

_Andrew makes a noise that he hopes sounds like gratitude. Adam should be disappointed in him, Andrew knew he is at himself. But if Adam feels anything other than worry, he doesn't show it._

Why is nobody faulting him?

Was everyone expecting him to just fall apart the moment Steven left, that none of this is surprising? Was that what they really thought of him? Weak?

The two eat in hanging silence, the couch is small even for two people. Steven leans against Andrew, it's heavy enough to be intentional but also light enough to quickly pull back at the first sign of rejection.

It is a small but comforting move, one that Andrew appreciates very much. He gently pushes back in reciprocation, reminded of all the times where they had to squeeze to fit into the frame while filming. 

The good old times.

The taller man glances over every few seconds, almost as if his friend could vanish into thin air any moment now.

"Quit worrying," Andrew mutters. "It's not a good look on you."

"Oh _no_ , I don't look good. Whatever will I do?" Steven's sarcasm could use some work. Andrew lightly shoves him in the shoulder.

"But seriously, nobody told you?" Steven shakes his head, frowning. Andrew chuckles dryly. "I need better friends."

"If I had known, I would have flown here first thing." Steven bites off another mouthful of his pizza slice. The little creases around his face age him a few years, the sadness in his eyes uncharacteristic of someone like him.

Come to think of it, Steven looks so much more tired and worn out than Andrew has ever seen him. New York must have done a number on him, Andrew almost asks him to move back to LA.

There is no way in hell he will actually do it. New York is Steven's dream, an oft talked about one. The last thing Andrew wants it for Steven to give up his dream for him.

"I missed you too," Steven suddenly mentions. "I realized I haven't actually said it." There is a certain warmth in his brown eyes, it exudes sincerity. Andrew can't stop staring.

He might just drown in them.

They start talking about all the places they can visit, all the food they can eat while Steven's here. It is almost like they are having a meeting, planning out the show once again. Slowly, the topic drifts away to New York, to Steven's new job.

Although the conversation keeps going and the words keep flowing, there is so much that Andrew isn't saying. So much that he doesn't talk about.

He doesn't talk about his time in the hospital ward. He doesn't talk about the way his coworkers look at him. He doesn't talk about how he cries himself to sleep almost every night.

He doesn't talk about how much he is in love with Steven.

Instead, they stick to lighter subjects and happier times. Soon enough however, they grow tired and sleepy. Steven declares that he is staying over and will be taking the couch. Andrew doesn't protest, he never pick fights he can't win.

A large part of him is happy that the waves have brought his best friend back to his side. But a small voice keeps reminding him that the tides will eventually recede, leaving him alone again.

What a mess he has become.


	4. New York

# Chapter 3 - New York

"New York is really something."

It certainly is. Andrew holds his umbrella a little lower and grumbles to himself. The drenched roads are mirror-like this late at night, making the city look even larger than it already is.

"Would you call it the best decision you ever made?" Adam chirps, completely out of character. It's like he was given a shot of pure sugar. He kinda was.

"It's up there," Steven replies without missing a beat. The happy innocence in his voice makes Andrew smile. He missed this.

Andrew licks his chapped lips, tasting remnants of the chocolate mousse cake they had after dinner. The contrast between the cake and his lips is reminiscent of that between Steven and him. One's soft and sweet, the other's dry and rough

They just don't go together.

Steven suddenly stops in front of a furniture store and Andrew almost crashes into him. He looks deep in thought.

"I wanna look at some furniture!" Steven loudly proclaims. "Let's go." He pushes past the glass doors and bounds towards the dining room section.

Subtlety was never the man's strong suit, Andrew sees right through his act. The store is filled with plenty of surfaces to rest on, and Steven's apartment is already filled out. A little too filled out actually, Andrew thinks.

No doubt that this is an attempt to give Andrew a break from walking. His friend knows him well. Should Steven have asked him if he needed to stop for a rest, he would have declined with certain ferocity.

Steven's too sweet.

And despite the blonde's insistence that he is fine, Andrew is indeed feeling rather sore from all the walking. He plops down on a nearby leather armchair and his feet start singing praises.

"He's doing this for you," Adam states simply, as he sits himself down on the arm of Andrew's chair. "But you already knew that."

"Yeah, no shit." Andrew laughs darkly. He can't comprehend why Adam walks around stating the obvious all the time.

"You love him."

_The restaurant could use a few more lights. Andrew squints hard to decipher the words on the menu. Meanwhile Steven is endlessly flipping the one in his hands back and forth, trying to make a decision._

_He is especially fidgety tonight._

_Steven is also especially beautiful tonight. The words prickle in Andrew's mind, he had long decided to deny himself from thinking such thoughts. But now... now he is far too deep into this. No amount of denial can turn things around._

_After Steven's surprise drop-in visit last night, Andrew's mind and body have been in overdrive. He lowers the menu in front of him to take in the sight of his best friend._

_The lights, although uncomfortably dim, perfectly illuminate Steven's hair, making him look like someone of Angelic descent. Andrew's heart palpitates as he observes the glow around the crown of the other man's head, dreaming of a halo._

_The shadows, on the other hand, give Steven's face a harsh edge unlike anything Andrew has ever seen... beautiful yet deadly. Something straight out of an art film._

_He is indeed deadly, to Andrew at least._

_Unfamiliar emotions churn in Andrew's stomach. He wants to grab Steven's face with both his hands and kiss him till he suffocates. But his arms remain numbly by his side._

_The waiter takes their order and leaves, all that remains is restless idle. Steven opens his mouth slightly as if to say something but closes it, biting his lip._

_Blood rush in Andrew's ears, the bluster of the restaurant dampen down to a faded murmur. His eyes remain fixated on the lips in front of him. When they start moving, he doesn't catch any of the words, letting them whiz pass him like dodgeballs._

_Then the sound of his own name smacks him in the forehead._

_"Andrew!" Steven stares at him, wide-eyed and worried. "A-are you okay? I... uh, I'm- Sorry." His cheeks flush red, and Andrew swears he can feel the heat radiating off them._

_"I- what? Uh... I couldn't hear you over this noise..." Andrew hopes that he'll buy that excuse. He doesn't need to know that his best friend is lusting hard after him right now... maybe not ever._

_Relief washing over him, Steven scoots across the booth, closing in on Andrew. The blonde feels his breath hitch against his will._

_They've been this close before, it's normal. Usually when they film, they would be pressing into each other's sides. This is normal. This is perfectly normal._

_So why doesn't it **feel** normal?_

"He doesn't need to know that." Andrew scowls, his eyebrows furrow but his eyes avoid any form of contact.

"Like how he doesn't need to know you're now a raging alcoholic?" Adam abruptly adds. The sharpness of his tone cuts deep into Andrew, who is surprised by his friend's sudden change in demeanor. 

"I- I... I'm not-" Andrew feels his face heat up. Thoughts are not willing to form in his mind. He wants to shout something back, to absolve himself. But before he can, Adam gets up and walks off.

A growing fire in Andrew's heart threatens to erupt. It's not fair. It's not that simple. How can Adam just say something like that?

Because the truth hurts, and that is the name of the emotion now sitting in the pit of his stomach. He clench his fists and unclench them... over and over again.

_Andrew wants to scream his head off._

_But it would be a bad time (and a bad way) to be introducing himself to the neighbors. It's his first night back home from the... hospital. He shudders at the thought of that word. He is alone again, and it scares the hell out of him._

_There is dread pooling at the bottom of his heart as he waddles into his apartment, crutches and all. He's too proud to ever admit he needs help, he told the nurses to discharge him early... and left on his own. The pent-up frustration was becoming too much for him to take, lying in that sterile-yet-busy environment for so long does things to his sanity._

_All he wants is to be alone, and yet he also wants his friends to surround him, to smother him in love and concern._

_The duality of the depressed mind._

_He sits, or rather falls, down onto the couch, as his legs are stinging and throbbing far too much for him to make it to the bedroom._

_He can hear some laughing in the distance, probably from the park across the street. It reminds him of Steven's laughter. The dread is rising and ballooning now._

Steven is holding up an antique-looking lamp, laughing and chatting with the salespeople. Andrew squirms in his seat, sweating cold bullets. There it is. That laughter. The one that he swore was the devil pulling him in.

Except it sounds so much like an angel. Wiping the sweat off his brows, Andrew again contemplates bolting out of the store and jumping onto the first flight back to LA. But like every other time, he remains firmly seated in place.

_He isn't sure when his internal screaming became external. It doesn't matter. Everything is falling apart now. His voice creaks and falters, suddenly interrupted by choking._

_He wants to scream out loud just how much he is in love with Steven. How Steven's sunny disposition melted even the toughest of his walls. How he wants to hold the sunshine boy in his arms and protect him from this world. But the words are caught in his throat._

_He wants each day that they go out filming to end with them saying 'I love you' with their bodies. He wants Steven's beautiful delicate face to be the last thing he sees each night when he goes to sleep, and the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning._

_He wants to make breakfast in their kitchen, wearing Steven's t-shirt that still smells like him. Their cats playing in the backyard, their children asleep upstairs. He wants Steven's billion-watt smile to puncture every one of his dark clouds... to the very end of time._

_Andrew had never been truly happy before he met Steven, and now he will never be. The man had given him a taste of what love could be, but kept the real thing to himself... saving it for his girlfriend. The audacity of him._

_Andrew is full out bawling at this point. Lying on his side. His face in his hands. What would his parents say if they could see him now? Their robot son has finally been broken. The curse lifted, only to be replaced by another. Andrew hates that their disapproval didn't shake him anymore._

_Oh, how far he has fallen._

Andrew searches the store for a familiar face. Adam is nowhere to be seen, Steven is walking over to where he sits, half-smiling half-worried.

"You okay there, buddy?" A frown is forming on Steven's lips, all his other features follow suit. Andrew feels a pinch in his chest, this look isn't right on a person like that. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm good," Andrew lies. "It's nothing to concern yourself with." He hopes that Steven will drop the subject, unfortunately he only doubles down on intent.

"If it concerns you, it concerns me." Steven sits down on the chair across, his face weaved with concern and something else unidentifiable. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

He really can't.

How can Steven be so dense? How can he not know why Andrew is suffering? The intensity of Andrew's emotions come bearing down on him, his pulse quicken, his breathing shallows. Steven notices and reaches out to hold his hand. That's the last thing he needs right now.

"Do. Not." Andrew pushes through the gritted teeth he is bearing. He doesn't even finish his sentence before the wounded look on Steven's face pierces through, immediately deflating whatever it is he was feeling.

Nobody should ever have to see that. Andrew does the first thing that comes to mind.

He runs.

Out the door in a flash, Andrew's glad he doesn't have to resort to this until now. Even just a week ago he wouldn't have made it out onto the roads before falling over in agony.

_He's doing better at least._

_The bed has been made, breakfast prepared and consumed. Andrew is out and about in the world again. Make no mistake, he still wants to drink till it aches and curl up in his bed. But at the very least he is now capable of fooling others._

_Whipping out his phone, Andrew checks his personal grocery list. It has grown long from neglect, he is now an entire week behind. Not to mention there are the ingredients he needs to get for the next Tasty video he's producing._

_He should take the car, and he would... but he loaned it out to Annie. Her family is visiting, and she wanted to pick them up from the airport._

_The airport._

_Nope. He can't let that phase him now, this isn't the time for it. He has so much to catch up on. Andrew picks up his pace, planing to get all the shopping done by noon._

_Then there's cleaning up the apartment, throwing out all the takeout containers and beer cans. And there's the dishes, don't forget the dishes. And he still hasn't finish sorting out his bookshelf which he has been putting off since... when did he move in again?_

_Steven's been gone for a week._

_Then out of the corner of his eye, Andrew sees a flicker of silver hair. It can't be... and it isn't. Just some random pedestrian dressed in all-out leather. Andrew pretends he isn't disappointed._

_Bad brain, not now. Andrew reminds himself that he still has that report he needs to finish tomorrow. And they're filming a new 'I tried to...' video later that afternoon, this time they're attempting a tiered lasagna in the shape of a wedding cake._

_Wait, that jacket..._

_Nope, not Steven either. Not even close. What is wrong with him today? FOCUS! Andrew is so engrossed in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice the crater in the pavement and trips, he fortunately manages to get a grip on the lamppost next to him and escapes a trip to the emergency room._

_Taking a moment to catch his breath, Andrew swears he hears Steven calling out to him from across the street. And... no one's there. This needs to stop._

_The grocery store is right ahead, and Andrew decides to jog his way over. Hoping that the deficiency of oxygen being sent to his brain will shut down these rogue thoughts._

_The jog accelerates into a run._

He doesn't know how many blocks he has passed now. One? Ten? Hundred? Doesn't matter. His legs are tethering on the edge of buckling, but he can't stop now.

Andrew throws a quick look back, Steven must've been following him... right? He must have. Except, there's no one there. Not a single soul.

And that is the moment he gives up, he collapses on the cold, hard pavement... physically and emotionally drained. Steven doesn't even care, he didn't even follow. Andrew miscalculated bad. He doesn't even have a best friend anymore.

Tears are forming in his eyes, and he blinks hard to release them from their prison. Apart from the location, this is all familiar territory for Andrew. This is what his life has been like ever since the news of Steven's new job broke.

_"Why aren't you here?"_

_It takes all of Andrew's being to not reply with a snarky remark. He bites his tongue and racks his brain. Nothing good surfaces._

_"Something came up," Andrew finally says after an unbearably long moment of silence. "Something important."_

_There is no reply on the other hand but Andrew can almost hear Adam raising an eyebrow. He starts fiddling with the hem of his shirt impatiently, wondering if he should say anything else._

_"Okay." That's it? Andrew almost sits up in sheer shock from the lack of... anything at all from Adam. He didn't expect it to be so easy. From the moment he saw that bearded mug take over his phone's screen, Andrew has been counting down to the moment of doom._

_The call ends without another exchange, and Andrew is almost angry at the lack of drama. He nearly calls back to stir up some trouble for himself._

_Thinking better of it, Andrew reaches his hand out to pull out a cap from under his bed. It's Steven's, left here from when he last came over to hang out. Andrew flips it over and over in his hands, as if looking for something._

_They were just lying on the floor that day, phones in their hands, sharing with each other whatever funny videos they had found. It was a light and casual activity, he could've done that with anyone... but he'd never. Steven is special. Steven is Andrew's exception._

_He always thought that they would be inseparable, that even if they never entered a relationship, they would remain the best of friends... forever side by side. Now all that remains by Andrew's side is an empty spot, mirroring the Steven-shaped hole in his heart._

"Andrew..." a voice breathes shakily. Despite the fragile tone, the voice demands attention. And Andrew obeys it, like he has so many times before.

Steven stands physically there in person, right under the glare of a lamppost. His face worn out and eyes puffy. Andrew instead lies right outside the glowing circle, sprawled out on the pavement, sinking in the darkness.

The golden boy and the fallen man.

"P-please-" Steven chokes up, he shakes his head as if he's trying to clear... something. "Please t-tell me what's wrong... Please!"

The thoughts in Andrew's head are still being processed. There he is. Of course he's there! Through all the best and the worst, Steven has always been there, ready to support him in anyway he can. Always ready to listen to Andrew's problems, problems that no one else hears a peep of.

But this time...

Andrew's mouth goes dry, all the moisture sucked out by the mounting tension between the two men. He starts to speak but the only sound that leaves his mouth is a strangled gasp.

He wants to say those three words that forever linger in the back of his mind. He wants to say just how horrible his life has been without Steven. He wants to-

Andrew attempts to stifle a sob and fails miserably. And his failure leads Steven to break out crying. He steps in front of Andrew and drops to his knees, pulling the other man into his arms.

...he wants to say that the only reason he declined to be Steven's best man is because he doesn't have it in him to even attend the wedding. But he can't bring himself to say any of those things. So he opts for the only words he can muster.

"I don't know, Steven... I don't know."


	5. Worlds Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took way longer than it should have, I got a little carried away with the flashbacks. Enjoy!

# Chapter 4 - Worlds Away

Andrew wants to say that he has terrible friends.

But in their defense, it's not like he let any of them get close to him. He's been closed off his entire life, to the point where even those that he were willing to call 'friends' felt like they should keep their distance. With one exception.

Steven's the only one who knows better than to leave Andrew alone after 'the New York Incident'. Hell, he's the only one who even knows about it. But as life would have it, Steven's also the ONE person who can't be physically there for him.

Ever the caring friend, Steven wanted to tell someone to keep an eye on Andrew but that would require divulging - at minimum - that something isn't quite right with him. And Andrew wasn't having any of that. So against his better judgement, Steven wearily decided to leave Andrew to his lonesome, promising to check in often with calls, messages, visits and what have you.

Today is one of the better days. The bookshelf-sorting project is nearing completion, and it's not even time for lunch yet. Grinning with satisfaction, Andrew gives himself a mental pat on the back. It's been a long while since he has done anything productive that isn't work-related. And he has Steven to thank for that... and Steven to thank for _that_.

If Steven haven't been so supportive and thoughtful, Andrew isn't sure he would even be close to how he is now. Then again, if Steven never left...

Okay, let's not go down that dark road again. Andrew swiftly shelves the two remaining books and dusts his hands off. Mission accomplished. 

Now what?

Scanning the living room, Andrew makes mental notes on what else needs to be done. There's the now-very-dead flowers on the side-table that needs replacing. One of the legs of the armchair is a little loose. There's also the large pile of letters he need to look through. He saunters over to the bathroom to wash his hands and... Oh. There's that too.

Right away, Andrew is greeted by the bashed up mirror hanging above the sink... which he had punched in blind rage. In the tarnished reflection on the cracked surface is a very torn-apart Andrew, almost representative of how he feels on the inside. Mirror Andrew looks so sad and tired, the bags under his eyes heavy with the countless lost battles against insomnia. His lips are red and swollen, and his hair in disheveled disarray. There's a bit of stubble too. Did he really look like that? He was doing so well just seconds ago.

Deep breaths. Andrew focuses his energy on washing his hands and drying them. He quickly leaves the bathroom, hoping that the negative feelings won't follow him.

No such luck.

_Andrew had been numb the entire flight, he lived in some sort of trance. No amount of crying babies or arguing couples could snap him out of it. But now, stepping into his apartment again... the cold and still air fills his nostrils with an inflated sense of emptiness. The evening glow filters through the curtains, everything is washed in a somber blue. Back again._

_The familiarity of the scene throws a painful dread over him like an icy shower. It feels like he's waking from a century-long slumber, the reality of what happened in New York finally hitting him. He had acted out like an angsty teenager, and Steven consoled him like an elder sibling with years of personal experiences. Andrew was always the mature one, and Steven so childlike. It's amusing how the roles had reversed that night._

_Andrew drops his suitcase at the door and threw his bag onto a chair. He slams the door shut and heads to the sink to wash the airplane off of him. A few steps in, he feels a large droplet land on his collar. He stops suddenly. When did he start crying? He rushes over to the bathroom mirror, and sure enough a puffy-eyed Andrew greets him in cold. He blinks hard in surprise._

_Steven had magically coaxed most of the words out of Andrew, he still isn't sure how that happened. He remembers that he detailed how most of his nights went, intentionally leaving out anything remotely close to the 'L' word. He remembers telling Steven how he never had been this close to anyone else before, and that he didn't want to lose that piece of him he never knew he had. He remembers the crying, the hugging, the soothing, the promising never to let the distance come between them._

_Andrew had spent his entire life hiding all these emotions, keeping them a secret, some even from himself... and now Steven knows. Now Steven knows that he's a fucked up loser, he may not know the full extent of it but he know something now. Steven had promised to stay in touch but before he knows it, he's gonna be busy with work again and forget all about poor little Andrew. It was bad enough when there were no promises made, now it's a million times worse. When the drift inevitably happens, Andrew will forever remember that Steven did once care... but not anymore._

_Whatever warmth he felt, whatever happiness, would be ripped out of his hands. And he would be left alone again, but this time knowing exactly what he's missing. His right hand involuntarily falls to his left wrist where his watch normally sits, gripping it tight. His thumb rubs the underside of his arm... he's not going down that road again. Why did he have to say anything at all?_

_Andrew glares at his own reflection. If he had kept his mouth shut, if he had got his act together... none of this would've happened. Why couldn't he have been stronger? Why did he have to be weak? Why couldn't he just be like everyone else?_

_"What are you looking at? You FUCKING DUMBASS!!"_

_A sharp pain cuts through his right fist, his temples are throbbing, his breathing is rapid, and his tears won't stop flowing. Andrew's vision turns warm and ghostly, and his balance abandons him._

_"Now look what you did..." Andrew whispers to himself. He falls to the tiled floor, clutching his bleeding hand. The consequences of his actions will come back to haunt him._

Andrew chides his past self for his recklessness. He absentmindedly rubs his thumb over his knuckles, feeling the rough of the dried-up scabs, a reminder of his own bad decisions. But he's better now, he swears on it. There won't be a repeat of this, but in his current state of mind... there's no saying. He needs to calm down.

As if on cue, Andrew's legs are suddenly feeling sore from standing all morning. He takes a seat at the dining table and checks his phone for messages, hoping for something to soothe his Steven withdrawal. Sure enough, there it is... a link from Steven pointing to some cat video. He has sent at least fifty in the last week and Andrew almost wants to say he is sick of them. Instead, he opens the link. Oh, it's this again, cats getting scared by cucumbers. Despite having seen this before, Andrew can't help but chuckle at the silliness. He feels his mood lifting once again.

Right after the video ends, Steven sends another message. This time it's a selfie of him and an ice-cream cone, Steven has his tongue stuck out and pulling a weird face. Sprinkled all around are animated emoji stickers, and right at the bottom of the photo are two lines of text:

'I scream for ice-cream!'  
'Do you?'

A smile tugs at Andrew's lips. Unbelievable. How is Steven still a literal child? He lets himself relish in seeing Steven's joy, even if it is likely manufactured purely for Andrew's consumption. He can barely believe the lengths the other man's willing to go to just to uphold a simple promise. Steven's a good friend, and Andrew almost let him go.

Almost.

The craving for ice-cream overtakes Andrew and he forces himself to get up, his aching body not wanting to give up its all-too-brief break. Of course, Andrew has a tub of ice-cream at home for only himself, just like any economically-wise sad person would. He yanks open the refrigerator door, and pulls out a half-eaten tub of Rocky Road. Not that he would ever admit it, but Andrew liked eating straight from the tub, it's perhaps the most childlike thing he ever does. That being said, he's not a complete animal, no way is he eating ice-cream with his hands.

Rummaging around the kitchen cabinets for a clean spoon, Andrew comes across a bottle of his prescribed painkillers. What are they doing here? Oh, right... They used to sit on his nightstand, but the other day Andrew felt them staring back at him. Calling out for him, taunting him. He had long stopped taking them out of fear that he'd get hooked on them. That night he had felt an urge climbing over him, so as a precaution he hid them in a random drawer and never looked back.

Now they present themselves in front of him again but he's stronger than this. Andrew tosses them back in the drawer where he found them and continues his quest for a utensil to eat his ice-cream with. He could've sworn he had more spoons than whatever number is sitting unwashed in the sink right now. A-ha! There it is. Andrew frowns slightly while inspecting it, seems kinda large for desert consumption... No matter, it'll do.

Armed with his elusive cutlery of choice, Andrew settles down once again on his couch, this time to attack the delicious frozen confectionary mountains of ultim- The first mouthful shuts his brain up, he forgot how good this is. Andrew can't help but chuckle to himself, knowing that both he and Steven are doing the same thing. That despite being worlds away, they will never truly be apart.

_It's too dark. Andrew can barely make out the figure sat in front of him, despite the fact that he knows for certain that it's Steven. But really it could be anyone. Despite all the inconveniences that the lack of light brings, Andrew is secretly grateful for it. Hiding in the darkness brings him some sort of comfort, it's like an imaginary barrier between him and anything that can hurt him (or he can hurt)._

_"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Steven's voice is unwavering and distinctly unhappy, he sighs dejectedly. The next words, however, are laced with concern and possibly... fear. "Do you not trust me?"_

_"No! It's not-" Andrew winces from how loud his voice sounded even to him. He wants to reach out and put a hand on Steven's shoulder or something to soothe him, but he doesn't want to risk accidentally punching him in the face instead, so he leaves his hand where it is. Andrew attempts to clear his throat but it comes out more like a strangled cry for help, the silence it leaves behind is more awkward than the one it ended._

_The last half-hour was a blur. Andrew doesn't exactly remember how they managed to go from the side of a road, into an Uber, and then into Steven's apartment. More importantly, he doesn't remember how Steven managed to get him to talk... and about his feelings no less. Now here they are, two grown men sitting in the dark going through an impromptu therapy session._

_The awkward silence drags on for several beats too long, and Andrew wishes hard for Adam to suddenly barge in the door and end it. But nothing of that sort happens, Adam is still out running 'errands' or whatever it is he's actually doing._

_Before Andrew can do or say anything else, Steven leans in way too close. So close that despite the darkness, Andrew can easily see his facial features very clearly. For a fleeting whimsical moment, Andrew thinks that Steven might just close the gap and kiss him. Or he could just do it himself. No. He will not let himself even imagine it._

_Steven takes a slow, heavy breath and Andrew feels the heat brushing against his own face. Steven's eyes are unreadable, and it fills Andrew with such doubt that he needs to take a steadying breath of his own. When Steven finally speaks, the words cut right through Andrew's defenses and melts him._

_"I just want you to know... I'll always be here for you," Steven says, with the most genuine smile on his face. "I mean, not **here** here but you know what I'm saying."_

_"Yeah, I do."_

_Immediately, Steven's arms are wrapped around him pulling him into a tight hug. One of his hands slowly slide down and rests on Andrew's waist, it's unfamiliar but not uncomfortable. Andrew thinks that there may be more to it or... maybe he's reading too much into it._

_After all, people see what they want to see._

And all Andrew wants to see right now is Steven, right here next to him. Too bad for him, that's not gonna happen. So instead Andrew goes for the one thing he knows can happen, he scoops another spoonful of chocolate goodness up and into his mouth.

Everyone keeps saying that money cannot buy happiness but they neglect to mention that money CAN buy delicious food, which does closely replicate the feeling of happiness. Which is why Andrew has been piling on weight since Steven moved away, he has absolutely no self-control. He just can't say no to food.

He can, however, say no to...

_"As I was saying... I... proposed to Ying, she said yes..." Steven tries. He slowly leans in a little closer, careful of something unknown. "I was hoping... that you- uh, you would be my best man._

_A lump immediately forms in Andrew's throat, so that's what he missed. Now he wishes he never heard those words. He opens his mouth to say something but he got nothing, no words for this. He painfully swallows, the lump isn't going away._

_The worry that was in Steven's eyes just seconds ago return, now in full force, his pupils jump around like pinballs getting smacked. Andrew can't take any more of this, he forces his gaze down to the wooden table, taking a sudden interest in the cutlery laid out before him._

_"I..." Andrew swallows again, painfully. "I can't." He doesn't know where those words came from, his mouth may have just plucked them out of the thick air surrounding the two men. Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew spots Steven fidgeting with the hem of his shirt._

_The waiter suddenly shows up with their drinks, he gently place them down on the table. The nervous energy isn't lost on him however. He pauses for a moment and clears his throat but doesn't say anything before leaving the table again._

_"Why?" The word that leaves Steven's lips is small and timid. Andrew can almost hear his heart shattering, this isn't what he wanted. Steven's fidgeting again, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Andrew?"_

_"I-" Andrew chokes on that one syllable, he draws a shaky breath and retries. "I don't really do that kind of stuff well, It..." Andrew stops for a quick breath, he continues spilling whatever comes to his head, not wanting to stop in case the words vanished again. "It's a lot of stress and I fumble when I'm stressed and I don't wanna ruin your special day and it's not-"_

_"It's okay!" Andrew looks up at the sudden interruption, Steven has a wry smile on his face. "I get it, I understand. You don't have to do it if... if you don't want to. Just-" Steven looks confused by his own voice. "You will **be** there, right?"_

_Another tough question, where does he get them from? Andrew only has mere seconds to analyze the situation, and the hopeful look on the other man's face tells him everything he needs._

_"Of course, Steven, I'll be there."_

_And with that, the whole scene becomes almost normal again. The only things that stand out are the minuscule distance between the two dining men, and the guilt beginning to manifest in the older one._

_Andrew isn't planning on attending that wedding, he figured that the 'lovely couple' and guests wouldn't appreciate a maniacal bawling man ruining the entire ceremony. The problem is, he doesn't feel right lying to Steven in his face like that but it helped him survive this little minefield. Perhaps he could lie his way through the wedding as well._

_Perhaps he could bury his feelings for Steven far deep enough to keep them from resurfacing for just one day. He's already trapped himself deep inside a metaphorical walk-in closet for years, in comparison, this is easy. Except, not at all. It's still better than not showing, that simply wouldn't be fair to..._

...Steven.

Andrew scowls at the tub in front of him, he can't quite name the emotion he's feeling at the moment. Is it disgust? Maybe. Let's just call it's disgust and carry on from there. He still isn't sure if he should go to the wedding. Granted, it's still ways off but he will have to face that decision some day.

Maybe it won't even happen.

Okay, _this_ emotion is definitely disgust. He can't believe he let himself think that thought. Steven is his best friend, how can Andrew (even secretly) hope that the wedding doesn't happen. How can he be so selfish? Andrew drops his spoon, making a small thud. His appetite is gone now.

Andrew tears his eyes away from the food in front of him, and looks at anything else that exists. While mindlessly looking around the kitchen, he notices for the first time that there's a giant crack in one of the tiles. Normally seeing a sight like this doesn't elicit much of a reaction from him, but Andrew can already feel the nerve-wrecking emotions bubbling inside.

He knows exactly when this had happened.

_A loud crash wakes him up. Andrew sits up slightly in his bed and glares at the closed bedroom door. When nothing follows, Andrew relaxes and is about to return to sleep when a second crash jolts him right up again. This time, the noise is accompanied by a soft 'ow'._

_Who the hell...?_

_Steven! Andrew immediately jumps out of bed, he automatically throws a random shirt on as he dashes out of his room. And there in the middle of the kitchen, is his surprise visitor from last night gingerly rubbing the side of his head._

_"Are you okay?!" Steven simply looks up with lost eyes, he blinks pointlessly for a few seconds before smiling sheepishly._

_"I was just making you breakfast..." Steven rubs the back of his neck, he appears to contemplate for a moment before adding, "you really shouldn't stack your pots and pans like this."_

_"You didn't answer my question," Andrew scolds as he kneel down before the other man. He carefully inspects for injuries but doesn't find anything, not even a bruise. "I think you're okay."_

_Steven doesn't have an answer for that but simply gets up on his feet and moves to the counters. Andrew sighs, resigning to his fate of cleaning up after him. He slowly picks up the assorted kitchenware and puts them back where he thinks they were. The scent of pancakes and scrambled eggs find their way to Andrew's nose, and it triggers the hungry demon in his stomach. The loud growling noise startles Steven who yelps before realizing what it is._

_"Good morning to you too!" He laughs heartily and flips a flapjack on to a plate. It's dumb but Andrew feels himself blushing, what's so embarrassing about being hungry? 'Nothing' is the answer. But despite his conviction, Andrew can't help but fumble over his next words._

_"It s-smells go-good..." The embarrassment doubles. Steven turns his head around and shoots an adoring look. Time slows down, as Andrew feel his thumping heart flutter. His ears burned as his mouth dried out. This shit is fucking domestic but knowing that it won't repeat ever, it's like having one of his dreams fulfilled in the worst way possible._

_By the time Andrew snaps out of his panic-fueled meltdown, Steven is already laying out the food on his itty-bitty dining table. His hands are on his hips and his stance is impatient, a lopsided smile plastered on his face._

_"Are you coming or what?" The sunlight falls gently over him, his deep chocolate-brown eyes full of... something (Andrew would call it love if he isn't such a cynic). Andrew wants to reach out and trace Steven's ever-familiar soft features like he has a billion times in his dreams, but he doesn't. He doesn't want to ruin this picturesque moment by doing something stupid._

_As he walks towards the table, the burning flame in his heart dwindle to a fuzzy ember, but the feeling is no less full than before. Andrew stops right in from of Steven, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on those pink cheeks, and just admires how everything can be so right again. It's the aftermath of a storm._

_He could live with this._

"Shit!" Andrew slams his fist on the table, all the feelings he felt that day are back again. But they don't feel right, it's like they have been twisted and corrupted somehow. It's sick how the very same things that brought him joy is now slowly chipping away at him, destroying him from the inside.

What a fool he was, to think that he could deal with the weight of those emotions no problem. Andrew's stomach begins to churn agonizingly, his head is pounding away like taking a jackhammer to the skull. He flattens his hands out on the surface of the table, pushing down hard to stabilize himself. To no avail.

There are tears prickling his eyes, ready to fall at any moment. The room feels like it's shrinking, the walls closing in on him. Andrew finds his breath caught in his throat, the rising pain is suffocating him. He's lightheaded and dizzy and nauseous, and he wants it all to stop.

When will this end?

_The tidal depression finally ran its course but the destruction it caused is only beginning to take root. Andrew had cried and cried, and now he's just numb to the pain in his chest. He takes a breath and shudder involuntarily, the shaky sound leaving his mouth sounds pathetic to his own ears._

_Andrew's throat is now raw from all the screaming. He is surprised that his neighbors haven't come knocking his door down, he's sure he have at least woken up a few of them. Which is good, since he has no idea how to explain his midnight breakdown to complete strangers without looking completely and utterly insane. On the other hand, he could've been murdered in his own home and nobody would've known._

_At least back in the hospital, as unbearable as the place was, he was relatively safe. With doctors and nurses on standby round the clock... if anything happened and they can't save him, nothing short of an angel descending from the heavens to zap the ever-loving life back into him can. So no point worrying either way. A yawn escapes from Andrew, and he wants to yell at his own body for so rudely interrupting him but the sandman is onto him._

_The pragmatic side of Andrew is urging him to move to his bed, sleeping on the couch is only going to worsen the horrid state that his body is in. But no matter how much Andrew wants that side of him to win, his legs are definitely not going to hold up... so that's that._

_Andrew squeezes his eyes shut forcefully, hoping to flush out whatever bit of misery still lingering in his system. He reaches his good arm out and wildly flail until he finds the one crutch resting against his knee, and knocks it off and onto the floor. The clattering invokes a distant dream-memory, one of Steven dropping his luggage and running to embrace Andrew._

_Between the lights being left on and the pressure he subjected his eyeballs to, weird colorful visuals begin to form inside Andrew's eyelids. He swears the blobs line up to form an image of Steven, he blames it on the stupid memory. Andrew twists and turns to make himself comfortable, or as comfortable as he could be._

_The combination of pain and drowsiness and sorrow that Andrew knows awaits him in the morning is impeding his ability to fall asleep. Brilliant. It's a shitty self-fulfilling prophecy that Andrew wants no part in. Oh and on top of that, he forgot to take his painkillers for the night as well._

_Tomorrow is gonna hurt._

And it did. Every night spent without Steven was always followed by the worst of awakenings, but that morning was painful on another level that Andrew couldn't even comprehend.

Maybe it was the physical pain teaming up with the emotional, or maybe it was the realization of Steven leaving finally hitting him. He didn't even visit Andrew in the hospital.

It's not his fault, Andrew knows that but it doesn't help one bit. It just leaves him more angry and frustrated... and helpless. He idly swishes the spoon around the empty space in the tub. Something needs to be done about this. Andrew forces his eyes close and try conjuring a happier memory.

There are so few.

_By the time Andrew reached the store, he's heaving and panting like he just ran a marathon. The cashier does little to regard his presence and continues flipping her magazine. Despite the fact that nobody's looking his way, Andrew feels a little self-conscious. He's always been a sweaty fella and no doubt his back is soaked by now. The adrenaline running through his system numbs him from feeling most of his body._

_He takes another step into the grocer's and the cool air of the air-conditioning hits him like a wave of relief. The tension is leaving his body, slowly but surely. Andrew grabs a basket from beside him, and starts walking down between the shelves. He enters autopilot, as he alternates between checking the list on his phone and the actual items on the shelves, it takes very little effort. Good thing he made it a habit to keep shopping lists. If he had to use any brain power for this, he probably would have left the store with only three different types of cheese and a bottle of wine._

_Okay, that's a third of the list done. Yeah, it's easy, he can do this, no problem... no problem at all. He doesn't miss Steven, nope. He doesn't miss his stupid smile, or his stupid laugh, or his stupid jackets... Oh no, back to the list. Back to the list!_

_Snapping out of his thoughts, Andrew finds himself holding up two tubs of ice-cream, comparing prices... Wait, this isn't on the list. He scowls, debating if he should give let himself have this little treat. Yeah, he should. That's one Rocky Road into the 'cart'. He smiles, down at his shopping basket. Look at him, being a perfectly functional adult. See, it's not that hard. This is how normal people behave even after their best friend moved all the way to the other side of the country._

_Right. Time to focus. There's still the rest of the list to go. Andrew huffs intimidatingly, like a soldier about to go to war. He can do this._

_It's not the end of the world just yet._

Damn right it isn't. Andrew looks down at the Rocky Road... he made it through that day, he can make it through today.

The words ring hollow in his mind. Yeah, he doesn't believe it either, as much as he wants to. The ice-cream has been reduced to a sticky, mostly-soupy mess by this point. No reason to leave it outside since he has no intention of eating anymore.

Andrew slowly gets up and walks over to the fridge. As he pulls the door open, a frigid blast sends a shiver down his spine. He stops in the middle of the motion, as if frozen by the cold air itself.

He wishes it would numb him.

_"What! What is he thinking?" Steven's shaking from laughter, tears in his eyes. It's the cutest laughter ever._

_"Don't underestimate ice," Andrew comments, a wide grin on his face. The video loops and Steven breaks into another giggling fit just as the man hits the frozen pool. Andrew wants to feel bad for getting so much joy out of someone else's pain but... it's just too funny._

_"I'm gonna miss this." Steven says suddenly. Andrew's heart begins to do flips and somersaults, he bites his lips and hazards a look at Steven's face._

_It's the softest look of fondness Andrew has ever seen. He almost 'aww's out loud but he doesn't, not wanting to interrupt this moment of serenity and genuine happiness. He's happy for Steven, he truly is! But part of his heart aches from knowing that his best friend is going to be so far away._

_Steven had come over earlier in the afternoon with some sort of 'big news' and well... it ain't bite-sized, Andrew's not going to argue with that. It turns out Steven got a job at some media agency in New York and he's moving there, in a month's time. The news had been had hard for Andrew to take initially, he even wrote it off as a joke but when he realized that Steven's not laughing with him, he started freaking out. Small scale at first._

_Steven tried and failed to calm Andrew down and they almost started fighting over it... but by the time evening came around, the two were well into chummy territory again. Andrew has since spent every second just soaking up Steven's presence. Memorizing as much of him as he could._

_"But it's okay, New York's not even that far. I can come visit anytime I want..." Steven's face is serious now. "...and I will. You can count on it."_

_"I don't even know why I was freaking out." Andrew finally says after a long silence. He rubs his eyes, tired. "Sorry."_

_Steven shushes him and Andrew rolls his eyes, the audacity of this man, shushing him like he's a child._

_"Hey, no 'sorry's. I mean it. All you did was show that you care, no apologies needed." The look on Steven's face is so solemn that Andrew can't suppress his giggles. It's Steven's turn to roll his eyes but he starts giggling too._

_Soon enough, it's just the two of them lying on the floor of Andrew's bedroom. Giddy from laughing at nothing. When they finally sobered up, a low growl emanates from Steven's belly._

_"Sounds like dinner time." Andrew smirks at his friend's embarrassment. He gets up on his feet and offers a hand to Steven, who accepts it sheepishly. Steven's cap drops behind him, he doesn't notice it but Andrew does. He says nothing about it as they make their way to the kitchen, still holding hands. Andrew says nothing about that either. He just smiles to himself._

_Nothing can take this moment away from him._

Andrew gingerly puts the tub back, careful not to topple the precariously stacked Tetris board that is the contents of his fridge. Once secured, he slams the door shut. If anything were to fall, it will be future Andrew's problem. He tosses the dirty spoon over to join the rest of its unwashed friends, and starts scrubbing his now-chocolatily-sticky hands with soap.

He does his best to ignore the hot tears streaming down his face. This wasn't part of the plan. How did something as simple as tidying his apartment end up like this? Andrew turns off the tap. Leaning over the sink, he pushes his palms down on the edge of the counter. He takes another deep, harrowing breath.

Why can't he function without Steven? Why does he break down simply from the thought of him? Why now? Why him?

He's sitting on the floor now, head in his hands. The ugly sobbing hasn't stopped and Andrew doesn't know if he wants it to. Crying made his problems feel real, gave them legitimacy. Andrew doesn't know how much time passed with him just curled up in a ball in the corner of his kitchen... but when he looks up the room is already turning dark. Damn it.

Another day ruined.


	6. Epilogue

# Epilogue

Why does it still hurt?

Andrew shakes his head, clearing his mind has never been more difficult. The office late at night may be quiet but his thoughts are boisterous and chaotic. Things have been so much worse recently. A disembodied voice in his head tells him that he needs to do something about it, he knows better than to listen to it... but it doesn't matter.

Who will even notice?

Steven held up his end of the promise and so did Andrew, but it didn't help. Everything became more complicated. Andrew fell in love, the one thing he told himself not to do when his feelings first manifested as a crush. He had fallen so deep in love with Steven, that he didn't know how bad it was till the weight of his emotions hit him.

When will he learn?

This is falling in love in _the cruelest way_. Steven is two and a half thousand miles away, and all Andrew can do is feel himself fall even deeper down the rabbit hole. This is unfair but he can stop it. It would be so easy. So easy.

Where is this headed?

Andrew is well aware of his own stubbornness, if he lets this idea sink in, nothing can shake it. For the sake of everything he worked so hard to achieve, he should let it go. But his illogical mind is taking the reins, it's all only a few clicks away. Rationality be damned. He needs to see Steven one more time, even if it's the last.

How is it going to feel?

Maybe he will finally get the closure he so longed for, maybe it will allow him to move on. Maybe it won't even have to end there but...

What does he know?

"I love you, Steven."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End  
> ...  
> ...  
> [?](http://exceedinglyregular.tumblr.com/ST05)


End file.
